Shades of Gray
by Alexa Johnson
Summary: Why did it take Remus so long to trust Sirius in Prisoner of Azkaban? It all began on a cold July night a year before the first War... a mystery in two parts. Written for the hpholidaygen exchange. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** "Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were best friends. Why, then, despite everything, did it take Remus so long to believe Sirius's innocence in Prisoner of Azkaban? It all began on a night a year before the first war, when Remus made a startling discovery…" Long, dark, plotty, and although it may be a little far-fetched, NOT an AU.

**Author's notes:** This story just about killed me to write it, and after all that effort, my giftee (Who Shall Not Be Named) disappeared from the exchange with no explanation. Grrr. But anyway, this is my first finished piece of Harry Potter fanfic that is not a one-shot, and I'm very proud of it. All reviews will be very much appreciated! Thanks to V.M. Bell for being the best beta of EVAR, and for suffering through five edited drafts of this monster. smooches I hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Last time I checked, my initials weren't JKR, unfortunately! I'm only playing in her sandbox. All I own is this plot bunny! XD

* * *

**SHADES OF GRAY**

* * *

**PART ONE**

**Prologue: A Spy in the Order's Court**

_"I only want followers who will be loyal to me, and me alone."_

_"I know this, Lord. You can trust me."_

"_How can I, when you know _him so_ well? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't murder you right now." If his curiosity weren't so piqued, he would have already._

_The figure gave many reasons, and upon the end, Voldemort smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, and if it weren't Voldemort, it wouldn't have been called a smile at all. _

"_Listen well, for I am only going to say this once. Your life will depend on how accurately you remember." Without waiting for the other to respond, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named continued, "Here is what I command of you…" _

* * *

**_July 19th, 1980_**

Remus Lupin had a headache.

If he didn't know better, he would've attributed it to the manticore that sometimes liked to take up residence in his head. Unfortunately, he could only link it to the Very Bad Day he'd been having. The only good thing he could say about it was that it was nearing completion, but this small light at the end of a very dark, gloomy tunnel was ruined with the knowledge that there was still time for something else to happen. Knowing the way his luck—if he could even call it that—had been going, it was probably going to be Something Highly Unpleasant.

Things had been so much easier for him—for all of them, really—when he had been in his early years at Hogwarts. Well, he'd still been a werewolf then, so he supposed he had never known what "easy" meant, but for the first time in his life, Remus Lupin Had Friends. He liked to gloss over the initial months, when James and Sirius had hated each other with a passion and he'd been the one trying to keep the peace in the dorms (Peter had been more or less useless). They were so focused on despising each other that they tended to ignore him and Peter both, but he reasoned that it was better to be ignored than to be the recipient of their vitriolic feelings. Then, one day, they had gotten into a disastrous fight over Something Petty and they'd beaten each other up pretty badly (both Sirius and James tended to resort to fists in fits of irrational anger). They had both been embarrassed—and rightfully so. Shamefaced, they accepted Dumbledore's punishment and apologized to each other, and somehow, someway, a shaky truce formed between the pair and an intense friendship gradually developed.

On paper, the friendship shouldn't have worked. The Blacks and the Potters hated each other as much as the Weasleys and the Malfoys did. Like the Malfoys, the majority of the Blacks were known supporters of You-Know-Who and the Potters were known antagonists, and like most feuds it began over something stupid that Remus could no longer remember, since it dated back a few generations ago at least. Now, it was one of those simple facts of life—the sun rose and set each day, and Blacks never befriended Potters. It was a friendship that had shocked the school to the core and had led the Slytherins to despise Sirius even more. Not that Sirius had cared—he'd had James, and Remus and Peter soon joined them.

If only things were still that carefree. Remus doubted that any of them had expected to be in the place where they were now, trying to stop the threat of You-Know-Who, murder any Death Eaters they came across, and avoid being murdered _by _them. And then there were James and Lily, happily married, and Remus, Sirius, and Peter hardly ever saw them anymore. When James wasn't away at Auror training, he was home with Lily. They were together at Order meetings, and occasionally the four of them had a night out, but it was clear that James was reluctant to do anything without Lily unless he couldn't avoid it. Sirius had a naturally jealous and suspicious nature that he was able to violently suppress most of the time, but he tended to be possessive of all four of them, most especially James.

Which reminded Remus of why he had a headache to begin with.

Tonight had been their first night off in weeks, and Sirius had been whining at James all day about how he should hang out with them just this once so it could be like old times.

"_I'm a married man now, Sirius,_" James had said, as if that explained everything. It should have, but Sirius was determined to be thick.

"_So?_" Sirius had persisted. "_Just one night, one little night. Please, Prongs?_"

"_You're whining like a dog, Padfoot,_" Remus had pointed out, intentionally alluding to Sirius' Animagus form. "_It really isn't an attractive quality."_

That had not been the right thing to say.

"So you're on his side, too? You don't want to spend time together either?"

Remus had sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming. It seemed that the manticore was at it again. "_That is not what I meant, and you know it. Stop guilt tripping James—you know he hasn't really seen Lily all week."_

After more exaggerated pouting, Sirius had finally given in, but the atmosphere had been a little frostyafter that. Remus had no doubt what Sirius was doing with his night, and it probably involved lots of alcohol and a girl (or two).

Remus had never enjoyed parties, but they had always been Sirius' guilty pleasure. Padfoot didn't go to bars often, but when he did, he always went all out, and because Remus was the Sympathetic One of the group, he usually went to him when he was suffering the consequences of his actions. It had been an ambition of Sirius's to get Remus trashed ("_Come on, it'll be fun…you need to loosen up a bit, let your wild wolf personality come out and play") _but Remus didn't see what was so entertaining about getting smashed and puking your guts out afterwards while a mountain troll beat a club against your skull.

He'd explained this patiently to Sirius, who had only said, "You're missing the point, Moony. It's the getting _smashed _that's the fun part! And the women, of course," he'd added, a wistful look on his face.

Remus had resisted adding, _what parts in particular? _Sirius probably would have told him, and he decided he really didn't need that detailed of an account.

Remus loved Sirius as much as the rest of the Marauders, but there was a part of Sirius that had never grown up, despite his awful family. Remus, on the other hand, had been forced to face the cruel realty of life too soon—the werewolf had bitten him so early that he had no recollection of what an existence without the transformation would have been like. He supposed he should be thankful that his parents loved him anyway and had not thrown him away like a piece of clothing that no longer fit.

Still, he could not help but envy Sirius his happy-go-lucky lifestyle when they weren't in Auror training or on dangerous reconnaissance missions for the Order. He hated himself for being jealous of his friends, but each one of them—with the exception of Peter, perhaps—had things he couldn't afford. Sirius had his recklessness and James had Lily.

He couldn't even afford his own home. All his friends had offered to give him free room and board, but Remus hated charity more than anything even _if _they were his friends. So Dumbledore had said he could live at Order Headquarters, telling him it was probably best someone _did _reside there permanently in case an Order member was injured, or had a message, or just needed a place to spend the night. This had made Remus feel marginally better about the arrangement, and he felt that he was actually contributing something to the Cause outside of training.

The location of Headquarters was quite ingenious, really. They had all decided not to use Hogwarts—it was far too obvious, and they didn't want the students aware of it. Located in the countryside of Kent and not too far from Dover, it was a small house that had belonged to Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother. Aberforth had another place in London, but he was never in one place for long and had given them his other house because the Order had been in a desperate need for one. It was the last place You-Know-Who would think to search, and it was so heavily protected with wards and magic that it didn't even appear on a map.

A sudden _crack _of Apparition forcefully extricated Remus from the tangled mess that was his thoughts, and an icy cold swept over him as if a Dementor had glided into the room. Usually, Dumbledore alerted him in advance when he thought Order members were dropping by so Remus could make himself available if they needed assistance, since Dumbledore rarely was. Of course, there had been times when Dumbledore _couldn't _inform him, but unexpected arrivals always announced themselves immediately.

This one hadn't.

But it _had _to be a member of the Order…no one else knew where their Headquarters _was_, and the magic around the house was so powerful that you would not be able to find it unless you knew exactly where it was, even if you were a wizard.

So who could it be?

A part of Remus wanted to call out and demand the intruder state who he was, but he realized that would be a very stupid thing to do especially if, somehow, the mysterious person _weren't _a member of the Order.

His breathing was quickening rapidly, and his heart was beating like a drum against his chest. He could hide or Disapparate—even if the loud _crack _rather defeated the purpose of a Sneaky Escape—but he was a Gryffindor, and according to the Gryffindor Code of Conduct, he had to be Brave And Heroic (translated by the Slytherins as Being Incredibly Stupid).

The Gryffindor part of him won.

He crept to the kitchen, and when he peeked in, felt his heart drop out of his chest and splatter all over the ground.

_Bloody hell!_

The Something Highly Unpleasant had actually happened, was now sprawled on his kitchen floorand for once, Remus's cool logic turned tail and fled out the back door. He realized in hindsight that he probably should've planned for something like this, but he'd never thought it to be possible.

_What in Merlin's name should I do? _

* * *

It wasn't a foolproof plan by any means, but then again, even the best-laid plans depended on actions that couldn't be relied upon – and this one was no different.

Even so, the figure was certain that the outcome would be in his favor. He had an inside source—and an unexpected inside source at that—and he was far more clever than anyone gave him credit for.

He was tired of being forgotten, being looked over, being nothing more than an Unimportant Shadow. By the end, they would all regret that they had ever ignored him and treated him as though he were inferior, and the best part of it was that they wouldn't even know it was him.

He supposed that was contradictory, but it was the nature of his work for no one to know. That was the beauty of it. Oh, he would leave clues.

Plenty of clues.

He doubted any of them would have the brains to follow the trail, except perhaps for one.

It was a simple plan, really. All he was doing was starting at the core of the Resistance and ripping it apart. It was going to be the ripple effect at work on a grand scale. A masterpiece—_his _masterpiece.

At the end of it all, he would stand bathed in the ecstasy of success, and then they would know. But it would be too late.

He rubbed his hands together, barely able to contain his glee, looking like a child who had learned that the Winter Solstice was to come twice a year.

Oh, but this was going to be _fun_.

* * *

There were many ways Remus could have approached the Something Bad in his kitchen, and all the scenarios in his head involved a wand, _Avada Kedavra_, and a flash of green light. However, this was not in Remus's nature, and not for the first time, he found himself wondering what the hell he thought he was doing as an Auror. He needed Sirius, or James—he doubted Peter would be able to _Avada _a cockroach, let alone…

"_Severus?_"

No, that was definitely not how this was supposed to go. _Strike one, Remus._

At this point, he was well on his way to asking the Death Eater to tea.

He lifted his wand, trying to ignore how his hand was shaking.

It was most definitely Severus, but it was clear Something Was Not Right. For one, Remus realized with a start, the man appeared to be unconscious. He hadn't even acknowledged his presence—very out of character—and hadn't even moved from his sprawled position on the kitchen floor.

So now he had a seriously injured Death Eater in Headquarters—

And that thought reminded him of why he had been frightened in the first place. Was this an infiltration? Were there more of them? How had they even _found _this place to begin with?

Well, there was really only one thing to do, and Remus decided it was a good thing he _weren't _Sirius or James. In typical Gryffindor fashion, they would have acted first and not had the chance for questions, and while Remus had wished for that outcome before, he realized he had a Golden Opportunity before him.

His keen sense of smell also detected blood—the air around Severus was thick with it.

Hm…very curious, indeed.

Maybe this wasn't going to be that bad after all.

Crouching beside the man, Remus could now see the blood pooling around him and wondered how he had not noticed that before. But that could be taken care of later, if there was a later. Now, he needed answers.

"_Ennervate._"

* * *

Severus Snape awakened with a groan and fluttering eyelids, wondering why it felt like he'd been trampled on by a Thestral and, oh, a curse on his lips for whoever the unfortunate being had been who had drawn him out of his peaceful bliss—

Until he focused on the face that swam into his vision and saw that it was none other than Remus Lupin. _Lupin! _

Oh, bloody fuck.

He remembered now that the werewolf had taken up permanent residence at Headquarters and tried to decide if he could grab his wand and Disapparate to Hogwarts, despite the walk he knew he wouldn't be able to make from the Forbidden Forest (which had been why he had chosen to go to Headquarters and risked being seen so he could fix himself up before making the trek to Dumbledore).

But, out of all of them, he supposed he should be thankful that it _was _Lupin, and not Black or Potter, both of whom had the intelligence of a mountain troll.

Before the werewolf could get a word in, Severus raised his head despite the dizziness that quickly descended upon him and tried to say, "Lupin…" but didn't get much further before he was plagued with a fit of coughing.

Oh, yes, the Dark Lord hadn't been happy with him tonight. Not at all…

It hadn't been as bad as it could have been. At least he'd heard half of that blasted Prophecy, and of course, he and Dumbledore had staged the whole thing so that he wouldn't have been _able _to hear all of it anyway. He at least had something to bring back to the Dark Lord. Naturally, Dumbledore wasn't entirely omniscient and hadn't known their plan would work, but the old man had been counting on that old bird Trelawney for that prophecy and naturally someone had seen him in his Highly Suspicious Position, and Severus had consequently been thrown out. Dumbledore hadn't told him the rest of it, hadn't even let on that he'd been able to _hear _the rest of it, and he had been willing to accept the punishment for their decision.

But, seeing as how the Dark Lord had an all-and-nothing-else philosophy, he'd clearly not been Death Eating on a high enough level.

And, oh, how it _hurt_—

"S-Snape?"

Oh, right. Lupin. He had to deal with the bloody werewolf first before planning his next move. Move…that was a good one…

"Are you all right, Snape?"

Severus blinked at him. _No, I feel like I've just been torn to bits and been put back together like a Picasso, I can barely move and I'm here in Headquarters with the werewolf who tried to fucking _kill _me…does this sound bloody all right to you? _

But as he lifted his head and felt the blackness tugging at the edges of his vision once more, all he could manage was, "Need…Blood Replenishing and _Cruciatus _After Effects Potions…"

And then he proceeded to pass out.

Again.

* * *

When he finally regained consciousness—he had no idea how long he'd been out of it—it was to find that most of his hurts had vanished, the blood had been cleaned up, and the only thing that remained besides an overwhelming weariness was a slight lingering tremor from the _Cruciatus._ Lupin must have done a pretty decent job patching him up, and Severus decided he really didn't want to know how the werewolf had gone about it and what he had seen while doing it.

He was lying on a well-sized bed in a small room, furnished with a desk in the corner and several pictures on the wall. From his peripheral vision, he could see Lupin sitting in a chair beside him, a book in his hands. So the man had been keeping a close watch on him. Well, that was good—if he were in the other man's place, Severus wouldn't trust himself either.

But that was the trick, wasn't it?

He _needed _Lupin to trust him, despite the fact he really couldn't stand being in the same room with him for more than a second at most. Yet how was he going to get the man to look past the bloody mark on his arm?

And why was he so fucking nervous about all this?

Damn it all to hell… 

"Snape," Lupin said calmly, setting his book to the side and looking at him emotionlessly. The expression on his face was more than a little disconcerting. "I can see you're awake. I have healed you to the best of my abilities, and while it is not my nature to kick a man while he's down, I want to know what the hell you're doing here, and the least you owe me is the truth."

Decidedly notfriendly. Well, there was nothing for it, really.

Pushing himself up on the bed and turning to stare defiantly at the werewolf, Severus said, "I really don't like this, but I am going to be blunt and get to the point, and although it is a point you probably won't like, all I ask is for you to hear me out before you stick your nose in with objections." He was aware he was rambling and wasn't really being blunt at all, something he tended to do when he was feeling nervous, and he certainly hadn't expected to be nervous. For Salazar's sake, this was _Lupin_—he had faced down the Dark Lord numerous times and had somehow managed to always keep a cool demeanor.

But Lupin is your only hope… 

"I'm a spy for Dumbledore, Lupin," he said succinctly, forcing his unease away.

The werewolf blinked at him, opened and shut his mouth, and then proceeded to stare some more. It was quite awkward, really, and made Severus more than a little uncomfortable. "I admit I went into the Dark Lord's service fully on my own volition. In short, I was young and stupid. I'm probably still young and stupid, but I saw that as my only path to follow at the time. I will not explain my actions to you nor attempt to justify my behavior. All I can say is that Dumbledore has placed his full faith in me, and if that isn't enough for you, I don't know what else I can say."

Lupin just sat back in his chair, clearly struggling to take all this and its implications in. Finally, he managed, "Of all the ways I had imagined this would go, this was hardly it. But…I mean…you're spying on the You-Know-Who, right?"

Sighing somewhat exasperatedly, Severus said, "Yes, I do believe that is what I just said, Lupin. I'm so happy to hear that your ability to comprehend English is still intact…"

Lupin ignored his obvious hostility. "What I meant to say was…you're _lying_…to You-Know-Who? The greatest Legilimens, greater even than Dumbledore?"

Despite the potions Lupin had given him, Severus felt his weariness catch up to him and breathed another sigh, trying to squash his irritation. Unpleasant though it was, it would do no good to sever the hope that this situation had presented. The fact he had been in Slytherin aside, Severus absolutely hated depending on others and having to ask for help—his lip almost curled with disdain at the thought—but the knowledge that Dumbledore was his only true ally had been wearing him to the bone. What if anything happened to the older wizard? Then what would become of him?

"Yes, Lupin. I am…one of the reasons why things have been looking up for the Order, so to speak. I am of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle and a master Legilimens and Occlumens myself. This way, I can protect important information of the Order and feed him anything I want. Some of it is partly true, but most of it is misleading. I do not know if he suspects me…he has not shown that he has, but, then, the Dark Lord works in mysterious ways. If I am found out…" He paused to shudder, and Severus was not given to theatrics—this constant fear haunted his waking and sleeping hours—"I do not wish to know what he will do to me."

Lupin continued to study him, his thoughtful brown eyes full of intense concentration. "And you said Albus trusts you? Implicitly?"

Lips pursed, Severus muttered, "Yes, I believe he does." This had been a constant point of contention between him and the older wizard. Yes, Albus believed him. But Severus did not think himself worthy to be believed, or redeemed. "However, if you do not, I implore you to question Dumbledore first before deciding on the next course of action to handle me."

It was the closest to begging Severus would go with Lupin. He had been…much more desperate with Albus and had been ashamed of his conduct later. He would not make that mistake with the werewolf and give the man something to use against him later.

It was obvious Lupin was struggling to come to grips with what he'd said as the battle raged silently in his eyes.

But then his old enemy did a most surprising thing. Speaking somewhat hesitantly, Lupin offered, "I am not quite sure what I think now, but I do rather think that if your intention had been…well…that if you had wanted to murder me, you would have already done so. I will say that I will bring up the matter with Albus. But you look just about done in, Snape. If you don't…if you'd rather not Apparate to Hogwarts right away, I can offer you this bed to sleep in if you'd like a couple hours' rest."

The extension of the proverbial olive branch shocked Severus, but he kept his emotions in check. This could merely be some ploy of Lupin's, to get him to accept so he could call the Aurors on him while he was slumbering.

But…Severus really _was _tired, and he didn't really want to face another interrogation from Dumbledore right at the moment. If he'd been more refreshed, if he hadn't just suffered a night of torture at the hands of the Dark Lord, if he hadn't just had that bizarre conversation with Lupin, he was sure he'd be thinking more clearly. As it was, his response surprised himself as much as Lupin's.

"I—ordinarily I would say no, but seeing as how things are…are you expecting any company?"

"No," Lupin confirmed, adding, "someone…_unexpected _could always drop in, but I think you should be safe for an hour or two if you so desire."

This was very Slytherin of Lupin, Severus admitted to himself, although he would never say this to the werewolf out loud. They were both testing each other, and there was no need to let the other know. At this point, Severus was craving the sleep and almost welcomed the risk as something else to focus on.

"Very well, Lupin," he said, "I accept your—_hospitality_."

Lupin gave a forced smile – not fake, but definitely not genuine. "If you need anything, I shall be around. I would appreciate it if you would tell me when you were leaving, however."

Severus nodded. "I shall."

Palpable tension pulsed through the room as Lupin rose from his chair and left without another word.

Severus couldn't help but think that Dumbledore had somehow arranged this, hoping that the two of them would come to some sort of agreement without the old man's direct intervention.

They would be exchanging words later, that was for sure, but sleep was going to have to come first, even in the werewolf's lair.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew had known, even during First Year, that the Marauders had included him in their little group out of pity.

They didn't speak of it, but it was clear they saw him to be the Weakest Link. He admitted to himself that he hadn't really done that much to disabuse them of this label they'd assigned him—he'd just stopped trying to prove to them that he was on their level and let them underestimate him. Better that than constant humiliation. So he let them think that his brain was only able to recall when the next meal was, let them think he had not much more to contribute to their conversations than echoes and laughter, and let them think that he really was as dumb as he looked.

But Peter knew better.

There was a reason, after all, why his Animagus was a rat.

Yes, rats were ugly, but they were clever and rarely got caught. The only one who'd seen this was the Sorting Hat, and the blasted thing had tried to convince him that he had the mind for Slytherin. Yet Peter had known that the Gryffindors would accept him as one of their own and the Slytherins would scorn him based on his appearance—in short, not the best situation for keeping friends close and enemies closer.

Of course, Peter hadn't planned on joining the Dark Lord either. He had merely been playing both sides of the chessboard.

But there was no use dwelling on the past: what was done was done. He would make them sorry for daring to pity him, and by the end, they would be the ones pleading with him for mercy.

The thought of the power that had been promised him sent shudders of delight through him. What they didn't know was definitely going to hurt, and Peter wasn't going to miss it for the world.

When this was all over, his old _friends _weren't even going to know what hit them, and Peter was never going to let them forget.

* * *

"Come now, Albus…what did he tell you to get you to trust him?"

Remus was sitting in Albus's office, having come to him as soon as he'd been able to sift through his strange encounter with Snape. He wanted to believe the wizard, he truly did, wanted to believe him because of the asset he would be to their side. But something just didn't make sense.

If Snape had been so determined to become a Death Eater, and had even gone into You-Know-Who's service _willingly_, what could possibly have given the man reason to turn? One simply didn't leave You-Know-Who.

But Snape hadn't, had he? 

He was still working under him, just not for him. Or so Snape said. Of all the things that Snape had revealed to him, the one that boggled him above all others was that the man was lying, lying to You-Know-Who. If Snape could lie to him, what was to say he couldn't lie to Albus, that he hadn't fed some tall tale to Remus?

And if he wasn't lying…how could one fool You-Know-Who and live to tell about it?

Albus sighed as he peered sagely at Remus over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "I really wish you would ask Severus, but he would probably not inform you and I sense you need to have some closure. Know that I tell you this only because I trust you not to show any hint to Severus of what I have disclosed, or I fear he will lose his already meager trust in me."

"You have my word, Albus. I shall not tell him. I just need to know—he seemed sincere, but he's an Occlumens, Albus! What is to say he is not fooling _you_?" Remus cried, finally unable to hold this preying thought in any longer.

Albus' eyes held none of his infamous twinkle. "If you had seen him the night he came to me, you would know yourself. It was an act, yes, an act of desperation. _He remembered all their names_, Remus. All the names of those he had murdered and helped to torture. As to why he joined the Dark Lord in the first place, that I can't disclose, and should be left to Severus alone to reveal. However, there is one thing I have to request of you."

Oh no.

Remus didn't have to be a Seer to tell what was coming. Yes, he had patched Snape up and offered him a place to sleep, but it was more of a test than a display of goodwill.

But what Snape had told him made sense, hadn't it? If murder were in the Death Eater's plans, wouldn't Remus have been a dead man already?

"All I ask is that you try to become somewhat more amicable. You do not need to become friends or spend quality time with each other—" The twinkle was shining through the clouds at this point " – but he needs someone other than me, Remus. You and possibly young Lily Potter are the only ones who would be most willing to accept him. He would never tell you as much because that is not his way, but it would make his job easier if he had someone else to go to besides myself."

"Albus, no offense intended, but you have got to be off your rocker! I'm the werewolf who almost killed him in the Whomping Willow, remember? Never mind all the prank wars between him and the Marauders. He would never be able to confide that much in me!" Remus tried to protest feebly.

_And of course, I don't really want to confide that much in him. Besides, what would the Marauders think?_

No, such a thing would certainly not keep my friendships in tact.

Remus was kindhearted, but not _that _much…

Albus gazed at him seriously, and Remus could have sworn the old man was reading his thoughts like a book with his Legilimency. He felt marginally ashamed.

"I suppose I can make an effort," Remus hedged, cursing Albus silently for making him feel so guilty over _Snape_.

"Wonderful!" Albus exclaimed, the Twinkle completely back on duty.

Well, what his friends didn't know couldn't hurt them, Remus thought, and chances were Snape wouldn't want to speak to him anymore anyway.

With the odds undoubtedly high in his favor, Remus was willing to take the risk.

* * *

**_October 1st, 1980_**

It was a dark night, and had the two figures been standing in any place that was not Knockturn Alley, people would have been shooting them highly suspicious looks.

Seeing as how they were in Knockturn Alley, the quintessential place for Highly Suspicious People, they were not even looked at once.

Which was the idea, of course.

"I'm glad we could meet here—it's hard to be secret when you are constantly around people."

"And to be constantly surrounded by fools! Ha. In the end we will have the last laugh, and what a laugh it will be!"

"I hope I get to be there to see the looks on their faces. I always love a good joke."

"Oh, yes," the short pudgy man said gleefully, rubbing his short pudgy hands together, "but moving on to other matters. I am certain that we have not been found out. What should our next course of action be?"

"Well," reasoned his much taller companion, "what we need is someone who is easily influenced."

"Well, _he _should not be hard to find," said the other, his words wrapped in a sneer.

"True indeed. This will take planning, and you'd better be a good enough actor. A lot of this depends on you."

"Of course I can be good enough," the short one snapped, "I know the risks."

"As do I," said the other. "Now here is what we are going to do…"

* * *

**To Be Continued!**

**_Review and I will love you!!!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO**

January 10th, 1981

* * *

It wasn't until a cold evening in January that Snape saw Lupin again.

He was in Flourish and Blotts, indulging himself in some book buying, his voluminous black cloak wrapped securely around him with the hood concealing his face to avoid detection. While it still was not widely known he was a Death Eater, just about everyone suspected he _was _one, and he wanted to avoid Suspicious Glances as much as possible.

Of course, it had been high hopes, thinking that he would get through this night without anyone recognizing him, but then it could've been worse.

"That you, Snape?"

Had his instincts not been so highly trained, he would have exposed some sign of surprise, but his body language didn't show any hint that he recognized the softly spoken words by his ear.

"How'd you guess, Lupin?" he commented dryly, the worst of his sarcasm apparently on holiday. Well, now was as good a time as any to see if their truce was still effective. Surely the werewolf had been in touch with Dumbledore by now.

"Why, with my heightened sense of smell and keen intellect, of course," Lupin returned lightly, and laughing slightly continued. "Only you would go to such great lengths to keep yourself covered in such a place as Flourish and Blotts."

"Maybe I _you _ /I should go spy, Lupin. Your powers of observation are infallible," Severus remarked, pretending to be reading the book spread open in his hands even though he'd been staring at the same word for the past five minutes.

Lupin let out another low chuckle before a grave expression overtook his face. "I've spoken with Dumbledore, Snape, as I'm sure you guessed, and while there are still questions I'd like to ask, I think I believe you. But if I have any proof that you've been fucking with me this entire time, I'll make sure that I'll actually bite you if I encounter you again in my werewolf form."

"I'll certainly take that into consideration," Severus said, shooting Lupin a sideways glance. The man was casually perusing the book titles, not even looking at him. There weren't that many people in the store at this hour, but still, someone could always be watching.

And speaking of watching…

Severus suddenly felt a pair of eyes on him, but as he managed to look around their part of the store without actually turning his head much, he saw no one expect one middle-aged woman who was thoroughly engrossed in the pages of a book a few rows down.

"What is it?" Lupin murmured, sensing Snape's unease.

"I just felt—"

"Like someone was watching us?" Lupin interrupted.

"Well, yes, but there's no one in here who would be at the moment." Still, the feeling of disquiet stayed wrapped around him as securely as the cloak he was wearing.

"Probably just your inherent sense of paranoia. You might even have old Mad-Eye beat," Lupin remarked, pulling a book from the top shelf.

There was a pregnant pause.

Then finally Lupin said, "Perhaps we should leave?"

"If there is someone hiding somewhere, that would make it all too obvious. But—there is something I'd like to talk to you about, that You-Know-Who talked about at the last You-Know-What."

Severus was probably being overly cautious, but there was no point in revealing too much. The feeling had still not gone away.

"Do you want to go to the You-Know-Where? No one's there," Lupin said, picking up Snape's code, voice barely audible. If someone _were _looking at them from the back, they wouldn't even be able to see they were talking unless they had incredibly acute hearing.

"You leave first," Snape hissed. "I'll follow shortly."

Saying nothing with his words or body, Lupin calmly placed his book on the shelf and strode out of the store.

A good twenty minutes later, Severus followed and promptly Disapparated to Headquarters.

* * *

Once Snape arrived, Remus turned to face him, saying, "Before you tell me what you want to say, I did feel it too. But I have no idea who it could be."

He was as baffled about this whole thing as Snape was and was just as far from a possible answer.

"There are spies everywhere," Snape commented, "but what I wanted to say to you isn't really related. It's more of a warning, actually."

Remus resisted the urge to shower the man with questions and stood as patiently as possible.

"I'm sure Dumbledore has told you what he knows of the Prophecy," Snape continued, and at Remus's nod, went on. "The Dark Lord has been trying very hard to figure out who this child will be…"

Suddenly, Remus's eyes went wide as he remembered the last of the Prophecy. _Born as the seventh month dies…_

The revelation shocked him so much that he had to sit down and wondered how none of them had picked up on this. Well, maybe, Dumbledore already had and wished to keep it to himself, not wanting to add to the worries of the Prophecy. Everyone just knew that Lily was pregnant—she hadn't told anyone the actual month except for the Marauders…

"Lily's expecting sometime in July," Remus managed, words strangled.

"So is Alice Longbottom," was all Snape said, and Remus couldn't help but wonder how he knew that. That affirmed his suspicions that Dumbledore had known all along.

_Damn the Great Manipulator!_

"Now, he hasn't focused in on anyone yet," Snape continued, "and I don't even think he's aware that Potter's or Longbottom's wives are pregnant at this point. But he will be soon, and while it will take him time to decide who needs to be eliminated, he will act quickly on his choice once he does. Even I at this point cannot say who he will choose, seeing as how the Potters and the Longbottom's have done much for the Order."

Remus had blanched considerably, and he proceeded to stuff his hands in his lap so Snape couldn't see how they were shaking.

"What is being done about this?" he whispered, entirely horrified at what the future now held for them. So many innocents…

"Well, right now, _Black_," sneered Snape, "is the Potters' Secret Keeper, as you are obviously aware, although I don't know what the hell people were thinking when _that _decision was made."

Remus felt his inherent loyalty to his friends ruffle in indignation. "What is that supposed to mean? You know very well Sirius is not working for You-Know-Who!"

Snape scoffed. "Please. Black is far too much of a Gryffindor, and I have a good feeling that while he might see the importance of such a thing as a Secret Keeper, his natural recklessness will cause him to not take his job as seriously as he should."

Remus was on his feet now. "He will guard James, Lily, and their child with his life!"

"Come now, Lupin," Snape said, the sneer more pronounced now, "can't you remember another time when Black revealed a secret of a _friend _he was supposed to be protecting?"

"Come now, _Snape,_" Remus mimicked, beginning to get annoyed, "you know very well Sirius said all that to get at you."

"Of course, how could I forget?" Snape snapped back, as irritated as he was, "but he seemed to have forgotten _you _in the process! Do you know how much trouble everyone would have been in if you had actually _bitten _me?"

Remus paled. All right, so maybe the Death-Eater-Turned-Spy did have a point. But… "This is entirely different!"

Snape gave him a calculating look, and Remus resisted the urge to shudder, as it seemed the other man's eyes were piercing right through him. "Is it really, Lupin?" Snape asked, voice soft. "Black always did love his alcohol. One slip of the tongue, one wrong move…"

"No. No, Sirius would _never _do that."

But beneath the confidence of his words, a Thin Thread Of Doubt was weaving itself through his thoughts.

_Yet he has…and he never meant to hurt you either…and afterwards, when you didn't speak to him for weeks, all he said was that he hadn't been thinking…_and he was trying not to, but now he could see it unfolding before him… 

The silence dragged on, and when it became clear that Remus had no intentions of betraying his thoughts to Snape, the wizard said calmly, "Well. Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

_**March 13th, 1981**_

_Let's correspond through letters from now on—we'll still have to be secret, but it will be a little less obvious than meeting in person._

That works for me—and before I forget—I made the most interesting discovery one day that might make our job a little easier…

_Oh, that bloody bastard! But I definitely agree. This could help us in ways I haven't even foreseen. Try to observe them more if you can, and now that I'm aware of it I will too. I can feel our moment getting closer! If only the Dark Lord will tell us more…_

* * *

_**May 30th, 1981**_

"No, no, and no," Severus protested, ensconced in a chair in Dumbledore's office, wondering, and not for the first time, if the man was really as senile as he liked people to believe.

Dumbledore just twinkled at him, leaving Severus with a desire to see if he could pull the blasted thing out of his eyes. "Come now, Severus…what better place could you be?"

"Have you completely lost your mind? I'm a Death Eater, Dumbledore, in case you've forgotten! Death Eaters don't teach children!"

"That is a minor detail, but I'm sure we can work around that," Dumbledore said, as though he were speaking of something casual like the weather.

Severus made an exasperated noise, wondering what the hell Dumbledore was thinking,springing something like this on him. Teaching Potions? To children aged eleven to a couple years younger than he was? Ludicrous! He was so upset he refused to answer.

Finally sighing, Dumbledore said softly, "Really, Severus, it does make the most sense. You would be close to me, and you could simply tell Voldemort—" Severus flinched at the name " – that it would be easier for you to spy on Hogwarts here and all the goings on, and that I don't suspect a thing…besides, you know as well as I that there is someone on our side passing information, and this would put you in a greater position to help me out in that quarter as well."

"Only, I would have to make it sound like it was his idea," Severus said, and then groaned as another thought struck him, the thought of it so painful that he let his head fall into his hands. "What if I get called during class?"

"Then I will cover for you, you know that. And you also know I've asked you to call me Albus."

Severus sighed, the familiar feeling of guilt returning whenever he was around Dumbledore for extended periods of time. It was nothing against the old man: it was just that using his first name would make this more personal, and if something were to happen to the older wizard… "Alright Dum—Albus. I'll do my best."

"So do you want that job?"

Severus sighed again. He knew he needed the money, and the free room and board wouldn't hurt. He could support himself only so far by marketing some of his potions, but his place on Spinner's End really was a depressing shack, practically uninhabitable for now. There was hardly even room for a decent potions lab, and he ended up brewing most of his potions after Death Eater meetings. He supposed, if he wanted, he could just use some magic to fix it up, but that would take time, and that was one thing he did not have.

But getting in front of rows of children, and actually trying to _talk _to them and_ teach _them? What kind of model would _he_ be? _This is Severus, everyone, what you do _not _want to be like when you grow up._ His old insecurities started to flood back, and before he could help himself, he'd blurted out, "No one will like me!"

Dumbledore merely gave him an encouraging smile. "Nonsense, Severus, you'll have that class under control in minutes. I would trust no one else to do such a thorough job—you're one of the most qualified Potions Masters in Britain."

That was by far the biggest compliment he'd been paid in ages, but he treated it as he did all praise—he ducked his head and avoided it. "Well, then…I suppose I'll try it out for a year and see what happens. I'm sure I can get the Dark Lord to come around."

Dumbledore beamed at him. "Oh, I knew I could count on you. Lemon drop?" he offered, holding the bowl out to him.

He usually didn't take lemon drops, but he had the odd feeling that he'd somehow be letting Dum—Albus down if he didn't. "All right, thank you…Albus."

Maybe he would finally not have to be so lonely anymore, although he supposed there was Lupin…

At some point, Severus was going to have to thank Lupin in his own way for his efforts.

* * *

**_August 20th, 1981_**

I think Snape is really on the Light side now. I had the chance to hear a most interesting conversation between him and that stupid fool…

_What! Impossible. Well, maybe we won't have to tell the Dark Lord just yet—we could get this to work for us first. _

What do you want me to do?

_I imagine you'll have your chance soon, but whatever you do, do NOT present this as your idea. Wait for someone else and then do your usual routine. I can't have you fuck this up. _

Oh, I won't! I can be quite convincing…

* * *

**_October 24th, 1981_**

"The Potters are in danger, Lupin—he's convinced himself that the Prophecy is referring to their child instead of the Longbottoms' son. I do not know how he came to that decision—" Mercifully, he did not mention Sirius again " – but he has, and now there is nothing to be done. While he hasn't revealed his plans in their entirety, it would be like him to have woven the night of Halloween into his plotting. Still, I cannot know for sure, and most likely will not until the night before at best," Snape let out, face covered in its usual impassive mask.

"Oh, sweet Godric," Remus murmured, clutching his chest with his hand, leaning on the kitchen table for support. He wondered, and not for the first time, how Snape managed to appear so detached from all this. It was absolutely frightening, almost inhuman, the way he cleaned all emotion from his face at will.

"Something must be done. I would have them moved, but then the Dark Lord would know there was a spy in his ranks and I cannot risk detection at this point. So they must stay. But we must do something else, something to thwart the Dark Lord without making my aid obvious."

Regaining composure, Remus said swiftly, "Yes, yes of course. You go to Albus—I shall be there shortly."

Nodding briskly, Snape Disapparated with a _crack_, and it was only after he had been gone a few moments when Remus allowed his trembling to show as he grasped the table even tighter, his knuckles turning white.

* * *

There was an impromptu Order meeting immediately after they spoke with Albus, and Remus found himself dreading it.

What could possibly be done by this point? He wished he could say that he was certain of Sirius's innocence, however accidental any revealing of information might have been. There had been a reason no one had mentioned Lily's due date—the Potters had been openly provoking You-Know-Who for at least the past year, and any child of theirs would have been susceptible to the scheming dark wizard.

Aberforth's house was packed with wizards everywhere, and the panicked noise was only adding to Remus' anxiety.

"Silence, everyone, please!" Albus cried, clapping his hands once.

The Order's respect for their leader was so vast that they ceased to talk at once, and their air around them trembled with everyone's fear. Spontaneous Order meetings were never a good sign and always meant Something Bad.

"We do not have much time," Albus said, words tight with urgency, "so I will get straight to the point. Voldemort has named the unknown in the Prophecy."

There were gasps all around as people shot nervous glances toward Frank and James. Remus put a supporting hand on James' shoulder as he felt his friend stiffen beside him, and he couldn't resist a glance in Sirius's direction. Yet his face remained empty of anything that might have resembled guilt.

"I am so sorry James," Albus said, face grave, "but he has determined it means Harry."

James blanched, and a silence thick as fog descended on all assembled as they digested the information.

Mad-Eye was the first to break it as he called out, "I assume our so-called _informant _told you this, Albus?"

Remus couldn't help it—he cringed. He was aware of James's eyes sliding to him questioningly, but Remus ignored them and remained fixed on Albus as he answered calmly, "Yes, he did."

"How do you know he isn't misleading us?" Mad-Eye demanded, and Remus bit back a groan. Attacks like these were launched whenever Snape was brought up.

"I would trust him with my life, as you very well know, Alastor, and if you trust me, you would do the same," Albus said calmly, voice sharp as cut glass.

_Thank Merlin Mad-Eye doesn't know it's Snape, _Remus thought, as Mad-Eye muttered something that sounded suspiciously like Constant Vigilance.

The whispering had started again, and Remus could pick out:

"—could trust him better if we knew him—" (Doubtful Hestia.)

"—once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, they don't know how to reform—" (Judgmental Sirius.)

"—he's never lead us astray—" (Reasonable Frank.)

Albus held up a hand, and it immediately claimed respect. "Thank you. I understand your reservations, but please, all these accusations will get us nowhere if we want to work together to thwart Voldemort. First things first—the Potters need a Secret Keeper. Who would you recommend, James?" Albus asked, giving the man a sympathetic glance. Remus tightened his hand on his friend's shoulder.

James's eyes were hard as granite. "That bastard's not getting my son. I don't care what happens to me, I'll kill him myself if I have to—and I want Sirius to be Keeper."

Everyone's eyes turned to Sirius, and Remus couldn't help but wonder if this was really a good idea. But then, Sirius nodded, his eyes locked with James's. "Sure, James. Sure, I'll be your Keeper."

James gave a curt nod of approval, his uncharacteristically jerky motions betraying how upset and angry he was. _Merlin, _Remus thought, _we could all take some lessons from Snape. We're going to be free food for You-Know-Who if we display our hearts on menus all the time…_

Albus gave Sirius a hard look, and then went on, "Now, there are a few other things that need to be discussed before we have to perform the Fidelious Charm…"

* * *

**_October 30th, 1981_**

"Perhaps it's getting to be too late and there's no point in bringing this matter up again, but it occurred to me earlier today that having Sirius be the Secret Keeper wasn't such a good idea."

The four of them were having a night out in Headquarters, Lily declining to come because baby Harry had completely drained her and she needed some extra rest. Sirius had just finished telling a crude joke, and James's sudden diversion to seriousness took them all by surprise.

Remus stared at him, but James's distant expression and furrowed brows were an indication that he was clearly still inside himself and was momentarily ignoring everything but his thoughts.

Sirius looked especially startled, and maybe even a little hurt. "James?"

"It's really nothing against you at all Sirius, you know that," James said, voice small. "But…I was just thinking that…well that you'd be the first person You-Know-Who would pick on. Everyone knows you're my best friend, and he more than likely knows you're the Secret Keeper…"

Remus blinked. It made sense, and he wondered why someone hadn't mentioned it at the meeting. Peter said nothing.

"I would rather it be Remus—we could make the switch by ourselves so it would not be public knowledge, and we'd be better able to thwart You-Know-Who," reasoned James, turning his intense brown eyes to Remus, who didn't know what to think.

_Me, Secret Keeper?_

Sirius had leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. "Alright, James, I see what you're thinking. But, if we follow your logic completely, wouldn't Peter here make a better choice?"

Peter's head shot up and an eager light shined in his eyes. James's eyes bulged and he sputtered, "PETER?"

Surprisingly, it was Peter, not Sirius, who answered. "Well, it does make sense you know. I mean, I'm the least person he'll expect, because no one ever does suspect me. I was never as smart as you three."

Finally James sighed. "Well then, that does make sense I can see that now. But you better not fuck this up Peter or I'm warning you—I don't care if we are friends. You'll wish you'd never been born."

Remus didn't know what to think now, but he was privately glad Sirius was no longer in a position to betray the Potters, no matter how accidentally it would have been.

James stood, and all the others followed suit. "Let's do this now, there will be no need to get Albus. I do not want anyone else but us knowing we've done this."

* * *

The whole ordeal had been exhausting, and Remus was glad to get back to the emptiness of Headquarters.

Now that he finally had Peace And Quiet, Remus allowed himself to sag against the kitchen table, all the anxieties of the day turning into weariness.

It was then, though, that his gaze dropped to the floor, and he saw a crumpled up piece of parchment lying haphazardly on the floor, as though it had fallen out of someone's pocket.

Bending down to pick it up, his blood went cold as the words stared up at him.

_Things going as planned—the Stupid Fools will never know what hit them._

But it was the signature that chilled him to the bone.

_Padfoot._

Remus stared at it, willing himself to have faith in his friend, pushing Snape's taunting _told you so _out of his mind.

But he couldn't help it.

_No, no, this doesn't make sense—Sirius is no longer the Secret Keeper. But this could just be an elaborate plot to frame Peter…_

_Stop this,_ Remus thought viciously. _Use your head first before making conclusions with your heart._

There was a way to find out the real writer of a letter, and, he raised his wand, muttered the incantation and was in for more of a shock when the name revealed itself.

_No…it can't_ _be…how is this possible? Surely we would've _known…

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the sound of Apparition—apparently, the letter had a spell or two woven in it, and he should have picked up on that, should've known the writer wantedhim to find it…

Now, right when he thought he'd had it somewhat figured out, none of this made sense at all…

Remus turned quickly, the letter squeezed desperately in his sweaty palms.

"You!" he accused, numb with denial and shock, as he struggled to believe what was in front of him.

Aberforth Dumbledore, brother of Albus, and supposed supporter of the Light. Only, now, he was wearing a sneer that would make Severus proud and had his wand pointed at Remus, and before Remus could react, had him in a body bind before he could blink.

"To think how easy all this was," Aberforth sneered, "you so-called 'good' people are so damn trusting, but I swear you only see in two colors, black and white. Don't you know that there are all sorts of shades of gray in between?"

There were many things Remus wanted to say, many things he wanted to ask, but his powers of articulation had failed him at the moment and all he could manage was a strangled, "_Why_?"

"My dear Remus," Aberforth said, in a tone of voice that suggested he thought Remus to be as dear as—well, Remus would have said a Death Eater, but it really was the opposite now, wasn't it? "You really should learn how to be more specific. You could be asking me why I think the sky is blue, or why I wrote that letter, or…but seeing as how things are, I won't require you to elaborate your question. You see, Remus, you lot made your first mistake when you chose to underestimate Peter."

Remus' eyes blew up like balloons and just about popped right out of his head. First Aberforth, then… _PETER_?

Little chubby Peter Pettigrew, who could only think intelligently on his stomach's behalf? Who could barely get out his own name without his tongue tripping over it? Who did a good impersonation of a tunnel when he repeated their words and arguments?

But, then, Remus thought, as reliable reason chased after the panicked disbelief, he _had _been acting rather funny over the past year, and maybe even longer than that. The way he had taken to wearing long sleeves even during summer, the way he would always grimace slightly when he would inform them he had to leave suddenly, the way he would clutch at and scratch his left arm when he thought no one was looking…

And none of them had noticed, none of them had asked. One time after another of Peter's strange departures, Sirius had even joked that he was probably hungry again and was just too embarrassed to ask for food since they'd just eaten about an hour ago. They had all laughed heartily, but they had never, never thought to discuss the number of times Peter would leave them, had never once thought that Peter deserved a suspicious glance.

Yet Remus could not help but wonder how much of a role Aberforth had played in Peter's betrayal, if Aberforth had been the one to plant the seeds of discord in his mind and watered them with his own darkness.

But at least Sirius had nothing to do with this after all.

As if he were reading Remus' mind, Aberforth commented casually, as though he were merely speaking of the weather, "He never felt like he truly belonged with you lot, felt he was like an embarrassing piece of clothing bought by a parent and then shoved in a closet, to be taken out only because of a sense of obligation. The basic ingredients were there…I simply mixed them about a little."

"And I suppose You-Know-Who helped pick the target?" Remus spat, the shock erupting into pulsing anger, feeling helpless in his body bind, wishing not for the first time that he'd had someone else at Headquarters with him. But nothing in his wildest dreams could have prepared him for this. He was still wrapping his mind around what was before him, that Aberforth had helped encourage Peter to leave them, that Peter had even left them in the first place, that rumored-to-be-omniscient Albus had failed to see this – in his own brother, no less!

"Oh, I will not deny that it was his idea," Aberforth said smugly, "but this is my masterpiece, not his. Even _he _had not foreseen that it would work as well as it did, that the characters would unknowingly do his bidding. Your accidental camaraderie with Snape was an added bonus."

Remus stared, not seeing how the Death Eater spy was of any importance to this particular turn of events. "Snape?"

"Ah, yes. In case you hadn't noticed, he has a Grudge against you lot the size of an iceberg, especially against Black. The Dark Lord has never completely trusted him despite his high rank, which was the main reason that when Pettigrew and I were summoned, we were kept away from the actual meetings, so you see, he never had any idea that we were even involved."

Remus wanted to know how Aberforth _knew _about that, and then remembered the feeling that he was being watched when he'd run into Snape that day, that day which now seemed to be eons ago. He hadn't seen anyone, but now it all made sense: it must've been Peter in his Animagus form, who had seen him talk with Snape in a moderately amicable manner.

It had been Snape who didn't trust Sirius, Snape who loathed Sirius with a passion, and Snape who was trying to convince Remus that Sirius' recklessness would put them all at risk. When, in actuality, it had been _Peter…_

_Oh, sweet Merlin._

Everything had finally clicked into place.

"So it was you who gave Peter the idea to make him the Secret Keeper. Sirius may have suggested it, but he seemed to eager about the whole thing. And, even if we did misjudge him, Peter was never that cunning," Remus said, words laced with horror, speaking more to himself than Aberforth.

"Yes, that was one of my more brilliant ideas," Aberforth said, his ego swelling up to the size of America. "And the letter was the icing on the cake."

"I can't believe I even thought for a second that Sirius had written that letter," Remus whispered, realizing the extent to which Snape had colored his view of his friend without him even noticing. "Please, Aberforth," Remus said desperately, knowing this was a hopeless fight but needing to say something, "you don't have to do this. There is always a choice—"

The wizard laughed harshly, the sound as twisted as the look on his face. "Oh, my good, foolish Remus. This has been in the works for years—there is no going back now, and I never had any intention of following any other path. No one, not even Snape, was smart enough to see this coming, but I couldn't let our grand masterpiece go unnoticed. We needed to let _some_one know, and who else but you?"

Remus gritted his teeth, and his eyes were hard as granite. "Why me?"

"Because, my friend," Aberforth mocked, _friend _dripping with sarcastic sweetness, "you will be the only one left. And, in the end, you won't even remember how it all came to be, and your mind will be tortured until the end of your days!"

This, Remus thought, expression overcast with grim realization, was the worst sort of predicament, to be able to know what is going to happen but be powerless to stop it. He felt like he was reading a book, following a plot knowing what the outcome would be for its characters, but being unable to help them. Except he was the protagonist, and he couldn't even help himself.

Aberforth was looking at him expectantly, but Remus wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of any dramatic last words, his eyes haunted with the repercussions of _you will be the only one left._

And, as suddenly as everything began, it ended with a flick of a wand and "_Obliviate!_"

A triumphant laugh, black as a shadow, was the last thing Remus was aware of as his mind was paved in white.

* * *

**_November 2nd, 1981_**

Even the best-laid plans could have a surprising ending, and this masterpiece was no different.

In all their calculations, Aberforth and Peter had not counted on the Dark Lord's disappearance. Yes, Aberforth chose to call it a disappearance,not a _death. _

The Wizarding world was full of more fools than he thought if they all believed a little baby, one so little he couldn't even form words, could kill someone as powerful as his Lord. Oh no, he definitely was not dead. He was simply biding his time, would wait long enough until everyone was certain he wasn't coming back.

Until then, Aberforth would just have to continue acting. He'd been playing his role so well that he'd hidden his deception from everyone, and he could keep on doing so. His only worry was that the werewolf might regain some of his memory back, but if that time came, no one would believe the man anyway.

Remus Lupin, the centerpiece of his and Peter's work of art.

James and Lily Potter were dead. Sirius Black was in prison. Peter was Merlin knew where, probably masquerading somewhere as a rat, but proclaimed to be a hero.

This was what the world knew.

Yet Aberforth had manipulated the memory charm to give Lupin the feeling that Black was innocent, and that Peter was the traitor, so that he could by tormented by the truth that only he knew until Black rotted away.

But that was all it was—a feeling. A feeling was hard to prove without solid evidence, and seeing as how there was none, Aberforth felt certain that Lupin had had enough of trusting his heart and soon, the feeling would become nothing more than a thin wisp of memory.

* * *

**Epilogue: The Last Marauder**

**_November 3rd, 1981_**

Alone.

The word haunted Remus Lupin day and night, night and day, followed shortly after by _if only_. The hardest part was thinking in past tense. To him, James and Lily Potter were still as alive to him as ever, and each time he felt himself thinking _James is _ /I or _Lily is _left a gaping wound in his heart when he realized his error with tense. _Was._

The only thing he would say was _James and Lily _are_ dead. _But the word that came after made the present tense even more painful.

_Dead. Dead, dead, dead…_

He stood staring at their gravestones, but no matter of reading and rereading the dates inscribed made the situation any more real.

When people grieved, they tended to think irrationally, and that was the direction where Remus was going. Snape was the spy, wasn't he? Why hadn't he been able to see what You-Know-Who had been planning, why hadn't You-Know-Who confided everything to him if Snape were so trusted?

_If only _he hadn't let Snape convince him that Sirius was working in tandem with You-Know-Who.

_If only _he weren't so easily influenced by others.

_If only _he hadn't let himself be persuaded of Sirius's "turn" by Snape.

_If only _he'd murdered Snape when he had the chance that cold, wet July night.

If only they'd switched Secret Keepers… 

Yet that was little comfort as the rest of the Mocking Words danced in front of his eyes, tormenting him. Well, he knew one thing. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, and right now, he didn't care if Albus trusted Snape. He hoped he never saw the man again. Somewhere lodged in his heart, he knew that he wasn't being rational, that Snape _had _done a lot for the Order.

But it was what he _hadn't _done that angered Remus. If he'd been doing so much already, why _hadn't _he found the traitor?

And why _hadn't _he tried more to turn You-Know-Who away from the Potters?

And _why _was he still trying to trust his heart, his heart that was telling him Sirius was innocent of Peter's murder, when his head was telling him otherwise?

Sirius had been Secret Keeper. They had not switched. There was the proof of his guilt. He'd made the mistake of trusting his heart one too many times—surely he'd learned by now never to do that again?

His knees started to weaken, and he felt himself begin to thaw. He sank to the ground of the cemetery in Godric's Hollow, and for the first time since that dreadful night, he broke down and sobbed.

And far away, on a doorstep on Private Drive, a baby boy with a lightening bolt scar on his forehead unknowingly echoed Remus's grief as he burst into tears.

* * *

**MISCHIEF MANAGED**

**Final Notes: **I honestly didn't mean to leave this last part sitting on my computer as long as it did. The only excuse I can give is that I forgot about it! But I hope you all enjoyed it, and any reviews would be greatly appreciated!


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